Wednesday, July 04, 2012

Library, sailing and pink medicine.

1. In the library: First he brings me a book about a boy whose father has gone to prison. Next he brings me a book that we own, but that he wants me to read right now. Then he drops at my feet a book about a clever dad. I add that one to the pile, and surreptitiously put the other two down.

2. I rack my brains for a watery nautical song to amuse Alec at bathtime and come up with:

I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea
And oh but it was laden with pretty things for thee:
There were comfits in the cabin and apples in the hold,
And the sails were made of silk and all the masts were made of gold.
Something something something ran between the decks
Were four-and-twenty white mice with chains about their necks.
The captain was a duck with a packet on his back.
And when the ship began to move the captain said: 'Quack quack.'

To my delight, after I've sung it a few times, marking time by tapping my knee, he joins in the 'quack quack', complete with the sign for a duck; and when I stop, he says: "More", pats my knee and does the duck sign.

3. Alec is inconsolable, chewing his hand and clutching his ear -- until the sticky pink medicine comes out. It makes him forget all his troubles for a while, but I do think he's really in pain because he starts up again once the taste has worn off. I snuggle him up beside me and tell him it'll soon pass. It makes me feel very motherly.